Memory Transcription Subject: Tassi, Bissem Alien Liaison
Date [standardized human time]: February 10, 2161
Returning to the Sapient Coalition after a reprieve on Ivrana, I tried to set realistic expectations for what I could accomplish. Elias Meier’s temporary control over the Secretary-General position had lapsed, and there was no telling whether Osmani would fulfill the idealistic promises that his digitized predecessor pledged with such certainty. The galaxy was rather in flux at the moment beyond just humanity’s leadership. The Sivkits were preparing to move off of our world, while us Bissems—despite the ecological, unhinged, stunted terrors that they were—implored them to stay a bit longer. Those crazy Federation-brained furballs had been making a noticeable dent in the algae problem, so we were begging them to avoid returning home for a little longer.
The Farsul were much quieter refugees, with many happy to get off of Talsk for the first time in their lives, even under the circumstances of their homes being bombed. Lassmin, my country, had decided to offer pathways to citizenship; this decision wasn’t received well by all of the locals. I’d been turning more of an ear toward news from Ivrana, not wanting to feel detached from my homeworld again. As majestic as space was, we were up here for that rock of oranges, greens, and blues. The temporary truce in the Global War that had lasted for a few weeks gave me hope that our subspecies were realizing that. I hated that it took the threat of Aafa to drill that home.
I don’t know what will become of the Carnivore Alliance, with the Arxur interfering in the Jaslip business and pissing off the newly-pacified KC; Bissems can’t afford to get roped into this, and we’re not partial to Kaisal after he used our brand new ships as shields. With that said, I think we might have a few permanent friends out of this, and not have to break away.
“Tassi,” a warm human voice said; I hoped I had been right to believe in Elias. Was he even capable of achieving what he wished to? “Of all the faces here, there are none I’m so happy to see as yours. The SC should consider itself lucky to have you.”
I accepted his hand with a flipper, pretending not to notice how the skin felt spongy to the touch. “It’s good to see you.”
“About damn time you took out those predator-hating cloacabeaks,” General Naltor grumbled. “The Yulpa are more eager to sacrifice you than Zalk was with Dustin when he washed ashore.”
“I did not hurt the human.” The Tseia scoffed, a sour look on his eyes. “Someone got rid of him after he helped us, though. I wonder who.”
Elias offered a sympathetic smile, though I noticed his expressions and blinking were a bit off. “That’s what I came over here to say. Beyond offering my sincere apologies that your close encounter with Jones ever transpired, I intend to ensure that she never tries any maneuvers like that against anyone else. Osmani and I are planning to call her on the carpet about all of this, then cut her loose. We must not operate like that with species that should be under our tutelage.”
“Wow! You…really punished her for that?”
“Not yet, but as soon as this is over, it’s on the calendar. I must admit I’ll savor the look on her face. I…or rather, the original Elias found her to be quite the viper, and kept her under constant watch to avoid the Venlil getting railroaded by her schemes. They were vulnerable and intimidated by us, and whether or not we took advantage of them said a lot about humanity’s DNA. I believe that we can walk a path of kindness.”
Zalk scoffed. “Bah, you sound as naive and moralist as Dustin.”
“Oh no, I’m something much worse. A fixer. I can separate my own beliefs from the toxicity within the system, and search for a course of action that shortens the gap between the two. I can’t be deterred if you show me my optimism is misplaced; you’ll only motivate me to be the solution to the problems.”
“That’s the problem with your type,” Naltor countered. “Sometimes, the viable solution is the use of force. You have to protect yourself with strength. You can’t space magic away every issue.”
“I quite agree; my prime directive is always to keep humanity safe. When a species like the Yulpa jeopardizes our ability to live in peace and attacks us in a bold-faced manner, the path forward is clear. In general though, you should try the other avenues first before reaching for the weapons. If I might, I think that is a lesson that would be of the utmost value to Bissemkind and its subspecies.”
“We signed a truce with the no-good foreigners, even after they’ve tried to plunder our land and our technology again,” Zalk spat. “A real enemy to go after for the Starlight Incident: we have to find those Farsul bastards. Ivrana will never be safe so long as they’re out there.”
“The Sapient Coalition is holding a long overdue vote about making you a full member of our organization, but regardless of the outcome, such a tragedy won’t occur under humanity’s watchful eyes. Our mantle is the guardians of Orion. And for what it’s worth, we’ll nail the ‘bastards.’”
I turned hopeful eyes toward Meier, as he smacked a confident fist onto an open palm. “The way you talk, it sounds like Osmani is keeping you close. And if that’s the case, I have every confidence in humanity. It’s wonderful to finally have the galactic community willing to consider admitting us into the fold, without us needing to dive through hoops.”
The Terran diplomat’s decades of learned composure faltered for a minute, as an arched eyebrow betrayed his interests. “Bissems dive through hoops? Forgive me for allowing my curiosity to get away from me, but that idiom conjures a mental image that’s rather striking.”
“Don’t cover up what you meant. We can see your fucking internet,” Naltor retorted. “Adorable is what you meant.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“You won’t hear those words from me. Unlike the Krev, I strive to be professional.”
I gave Meier a teasing nudge. “And how often is that professionalism tested?”
“Daily,” the diplomat said with a wink. “We all have our struggles.”
The mind-uploaded human retreated from the balcony, as the UN fleet was on the verge of dropping out of warp and giving the Yulpa a nasty surprise. I recalled how livid Kaisal had been when the primates didn’t help, after the Fed remnants turned on him during Aafa’s defense. The Arxur leader wasn’t accompanying his forces on this hunt. While Grenelka’s fleet was pretty backward and dated, still requiring manpower, the grays were stretching themselves thin; that made it numerically difficult to overpower a well-defended world, with allies to come to their aid. Attacking the humans and their eighty-odd SC friends was a poor decision from our enemies, since we were the vast array of allies the Chief Hunter needed.
It’s about time all of the factions in this galaxy worked together to rid our stellar neighborhood of Federation-borne ignorance. The people who agree that the word “predator” shouldn’t matter need to stand up against the ones who maintain their bigotry.
Drone feeds came online, as the Sapient Coalition’s support dropped out of warp. The Arxur Collective were keen on battering defenders, in the hopes of releasing payloads like this was one of their old-school raids. Any critical infrastructure, whether military or industrial in nature, was being targeted with prejudice. However, the Yulpa and their allies had numerical superiority, and were banding together to strike down carnivore vessels. Plasma lanced around through our magnified lenses, colliding in bursts of fire. The Arxur were in need of an assist, with many automatons appearing to bail out under immense pressure. I knew their sensors were picking up the unexpected contacts; the primates had a chance to lend surprising aid.
Naltor lowered his voice, faking an Arxur-like growl and adding in periodic hissing sounds. “That’s great that you came to help, but where are the Bissem ships? We need allies we can use as shields.”
“After the Yulpa tried and miserably failed to attack Libastion, it’s time that we bury them! This fight needs to be over before it begins,” Secretary-General Osmani spoke into the microphone, standing coolly before the central podium. “We’ve sent a message to the Arxur and the KC alike, vowing to stand with them to snuff out the last vestiges of the Federation. Those who fall on the wrong side of history must be taught a lesson they will never forget.”
“They sent a message to the KC too? I guess they didn’t want the Krev getting the idea that humanity is siding with the Arxur against them, since the ink on the peace treaty has hardly dried,” I remarked. “The humans stopped their war when they realized they were fighting each other. It’s time Bissems sign an accord like that for our own affair.”
Zalk narrowed his eyes. “The Krev Consortium was, in fact, mostly not a human-against-human conflict, Tassi. The SC has a treaty with the KC, but not much else; how to handle trade, travel, and a host of other things. If we get accepted into the SC. I don’t want even more strange aliens coming to our world.”
The Selmer general puffed out his chest. “Fear not, wanderbird. The Krev are much more interested in petting humans than inserting their scaly asses into your migration festivals.”
As for the Krev, while their drones were gunning for Remnant forces, there was no sign of them in this battle; their fight took place in Malti and Drezjin space, while the SC had a mind to deal with the instigating Yulpa. The human, Yotul, and Venlil vessels were a trifecta of death, lobbing space harpoons and plowing through the nearest Remnant ships. If the Skalgan craft weren’t built for ramming, the Federation still had more incentive to avoid a collision; they had actual souls aboard their spacecraft. From the camera’s point of view, our reinforcements acted as one entity—the unity I’d seen at Nishtal was alive and well.
There was something beautiful about seeing vastly different species cooperating in battle that made me glimpse what Naltor appreciated in warfare. Even knowing the horridness from the conflict on Ivrana, this fray had a different feel. The Sapient Coalition was taking a stand, fending off the wild animals with a torch; they were the vanguard of civilization. The Federation remnants had ensured that a stomping was the only solution. I watched the UN deploy space walls that evaporated flaming rounds bound for our ships, and dust guns lap up anything that got close to us. Nanodrones and shield-breaking missiles tag teamed Yulpa vessels like two nets sealing in a fish, as the Yotul twirled hypersonic rods through the vacuum with ease.
There’s so much to take in. I feel like I’m watching those human “dominoes” fall, a sequential turn of events that builds to a total Yulpa collapse.
The Venlil ships concentrated their energy on the front lines, swiping metaphorical claws across the Yulpa’s hulls. Several Remnant craft tried to veer and dodge, which left them ripe for plasma beams to eviscerate them. The United Nations chipped in particle beams, and selected targets with shrewd precision.
The Yotul rallied other Sapient Coalition assistance into a powerful unit, and continued to pelt the Yulpa with space harpoons; the tungsten rods were crippling the exact locales that had hardened to the Arxur. Humanity supplied mini-missiles and plasma beams to complement this effort in contrasting fashion.
The Collective drones had accepted the Terrans’ aid and interfaced with our command, suggesting Kaisal was ready to have the primates turn up on his side at long last. Their twin railguns spit bullets that were invisible to the camera, but showed up on sensors and in the chewed-out Federation ships that vented atmosphere. Humanity positioned their ships to escort the Arxur closer for the bombing run, and had their own weighty antimatter warheads locked and loaded.
“There’s one common thread,” I noted aloud. “The humans are everywhere. They’re at their strongest when they’re feeding off of others’ strengths.”
Naltor tapped a foot with amusement. “Those Yulpa pricks don’t stand a chance.”
With the Remnant fleet outclassed, Grenelka’s vulnerable sphere was within the sight of the two predator species: the Arxur and the humans began to deploy payloads against the appropriate targets. The Sapient Coalition was not an organization to be trifled with, when they weren’t rotting in their own dysfunctionality. As I began to agree with General Naltor’s hopeless outlook for the Yulpa, a silvery cloud of ships rose out from the planet’s cloud cover—perhaps waiting all along, in case things got bad enough, where they wouldn’t need to warp in. I could feel my beak part in amazement, as the new contacts climbed to three hundred thousand; that count was continuing to rise.
We didn’t bring that many ships. This is more than we faced at Aafa, or even with the record-breaking KC incursions. Where the fuck did they come from; since when do the Yulpa have a fleet like this? I knew they had more spacecraft than we expected, but…
“You had to go and celebrate before we’d fully kicked their tail feathers in,” Zalk grumbled.
As humanity and its allies had to re-evaluate whether they could teach this monstrous fleet a lesson after all, as Osmani intended, I was unsure that retreating was an option; the Terrans had already gotten in close to Grenelka’s inner sanctum with no clear path out. The question that tugged at my mind, seeing that the sensor contacts didn’t match any known ship makes, was just who had been lying in wait for us on the Yulpa’s behalf.